I know. The answer to all deep philosophical questions is, “Everyone does it,” but just last week, I happened to hear two separate but similar stories that got me thinking and wondering why “Everyone does it” is an acceptable answer.

The first story is a very common occurrence. Mrs. Steinberg*, a veteran teacher of ten-year-old girls, had to take a three-month leave of absence, so a substitute was hired. Mrs. Werner* may have been inexperienced, but she came very prepared with fascinating, colorful lessons, incentives, and a determination and desire to succeed. Alas, she wasn’t the most charismatic person, and even worse, she had a bit of an accent.

Well, those two wonderful “maalos” were not looked upon kindly by the lively class of ten-year-olds. What began with excited preparation and eagerness to capture the ear of her students slowly turned into a torture chamber. Every day was pure gehennom for Mrs. Werner. Not only had the girls clearly decided that they had license to talk non-stop and disregard the fact that there was a woman standing in front of them who had painstakingly prepared lessons, but it was even worse. Many of the girls went a step further by asking questions to her face while mimicking her accent. That, of course, sent the other, less bold girls, into peals of laughter.

Sounds like a normal substitute scene, no? Kids do that. Some of us adults might even remember doing the same thing in our younger years, right?

Now for the second story, which in a way is even worse. Rav Cohen*, a fantastic rebbi and a real serious talmid chochom, began to teach an upper elementary school class in a prominent mosad in an out-of-town community. Rav Cohen’s lessons are extremely well planned. Any student who actually pays attention in class will come out with a clear understanding of the Gemara and a mehalech in learning, empowering him to eventually be able to enter a mesivta with an excellent foundation in learning.

The problem arose as his first year of teaching progressed. Rav Cohen was very successful in creating amazing lessons, but not as successful at managing the class. Sooner or later, the tougher boys who like to test rabbeim began to test him, but he couldn’t assert his authority in the way he wanted to. This is a challenge that many first-year rabbeim face, but in his case, it deeply affected him, and the pain he experienced was acute.

Yes, this is also a very standard story with no chiddushim, right? An idealistic rebbi giving his all and being met not just with indifference, but with cruelty from students who insist on making his every moment in the classroom miserable…

Whose Achrayus is it Anyway?

Now, when many people hear stories like these, they respond by saying, “You know, boys will be boys and girls will be girls, and this is just the way it is.”

Personally, I think that is a cop-out. It is a cop-out for us as parents, and it is also a cop-out for those in upper management of a mosad, such as menahelim and menahelos.

Let’s first talk about the achrayus, the responsibility, that Hashem places on each parent to guide his or her child. If a parent knows that their child is abusing (and yes, the word abusing is appropriate and not extreme) a rebbi or a morah, the first thing they must do is talk to their child about middos.

The same girl who, at the drop of a hat, would agree to do chesed and go on a hospital visit to a sick child, help a mother who just had a baby, or go sing in a nursing home because she recognizes the importance of chesed, compassion and rachmanus will at the same time be so cruel to her teacher. Why? Have we never instilled in them the basic ideals that a Yid must be a rachaman, having compassion on another Yid and not hurting him or her? Is a rebbi or morah not bichlal amisecha, not considered a legitimate Yid, just because they stand in front of a classroom?

Furthermore, in addition to basic compassion, mentchlichkeit and rachmanus, what about the fact that there is a lav, a lo saasei, of “lo sonu ish es amiso—each of you shall not aggrieve his fellow”? Yes, there is a lo saasei not to cause pain to another Yid. Believe it or not, this lo saasei is no less of a lo saasei than the lo saasei not to eat chazir. Would any child, even a ten-year-old girl or a twelve/thirteen-year-old boy, knowingly ingest pig meat?

So why do they treat the lo saasei of lo sonu with any less stringency?

The Importance of Instilling Mentchlichkeit Into Our Children

When speaking about the upper management of chadorim and schools, there is no doubt that the menahelim, menahelos and principals are wonderful people who do so much to ensure that the schools are running well and that the talmidim and talmidos are emerging with an excellent education. Nevertheless, if there does exist such a classroom in your school, it is your job to give the moros and rabbeim the support and guidance that they need to be able to overcome these very normal hurdles.

Children know that there are cameras in the room. They know that the principals see what is going on in their classrooms. If a menahel or menaheles doesn’t respond forcefully to such behavior, what kind of message does that send to the children?

Still, why are we not teaching our kids basic mentchlichkeit? It shouldn’t be that difficult to convey the lesson of “be a mentch,” “be a respectful human being,” and “don’t hurt another person” to our children and talmidim/talmidos. As far as I know, the Torah does not make an exemption for the mitzvah of being a mentch or the aveirah of lo sonu for rabbeim and teachers.

We teach and model so much good behavior for our students. Why isn’t this lesson going through? Is it perhaps because they don’t see that we really mean it?

Remember: Don’t transgress the aveirah of eating chazir, and just as importantly, don’t transgress the aveirah of lo sonu.

Above all, just be a mentch. It isn’t that hard.